


Tonight we drink griva

by Fabulae



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Drinking Games, Hunting, M/M, Not Beta Read, fabric porn, fluffy kings, heaps of sass, if you see typos let me know!!, return of the griva
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-20 06:19:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5994583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fabulae/pseuds/Fabulae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drunk Laurent invited Makedon to hunt with him at Acquitart, now it's time to honour the promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

“If he takes out the griva again, it is your duty to summon me in war council or whatever”. 

Damen was leaning on the old oak desk that sat in front of the window of the King’s quarters at Acquitart. Laurent, in front of him, fully dressed – every inch of pale white skin covered in brocades, velvets and fustians – wore a pained expression on his face. 

They were almost the same height like this. Laurent standing upright, while Damen, slouching on the desk, was busy tying the strings of Laurent’s shirt at his wrists.

“You could have a servant do this for you, you know that, right?”.

Damen didn’t miss a beat of his careful work on Laurent’s clothing, the words merely a recurrent joke between the two of them.

“May I remind you, Exalted, last time a servant tried to help me with my clothing, you almost broke her hand trying to shoo her away? You can’t blame me for wanting only a safe work space for my employees”.

Laurent had a little snicker on his face, not-so-secretly pleased by Damen’s possessive streak; it sang to his very well hidden emotional side, and it gave him great advantage to make him do his bidding, not that he needed much effort anyway.

Damen finished tying the strings with a perfect bow at the end, a frilly touch Laurent hated and Damen kept doing just so he could kiss the annoyance out of his face. He moved his fingers onto Laurent’s hands turned them in his and played with his knuckles, his thumb brushing against them back and forth; a soothing caress he knew Laurent sometimes needed, then he placed a kiss on his palm. 

“My king. You know it is my pleasure and mine” – the word uttered with gentle determination –“only to attend to your very complicated choice of garments, but it is five in the morning, the sun has not dawned yet and it is not my fault you invited Makedon for the hunt; in this instance I could have been persuaded to release my King dressing duties to your squire”. 

Laurent lifted his chin and opened his mouth in an O, for offended. 

“This is preposterous, my king. I thought you promised to love me forever and obey me and attend to my clothing, and you are already taking those promises back. I should have know better trusting an Akielon with all my worldly goods, not even six months in and he wants a servant to take care of my clothes”. 

Damen still holding Laurent’s hand close to his lips, kissed it again, an open mouth kiss; and he lingered, breathing slowly on his lover’s hand willing even the littlest trace of fake offense out of him. With his other hand he found Laurent’s left hand and entwined their fingers together trying to bring his blonde king closer to him, Laurent put up a little resistance, just because he could and tried to squiggle his way out of the embrace. 

“No. Hands off. Or I will be late to the rendezvous and we wouldn’t want to make one of the council members mad, wouldn’t we?”

Damen didn’t even bother to raise his eyes, he kept Laurent’s hand under his lips and with a single flick of his arm gathered him in his arms securing his slender body close to his. He was still leaning on the desk, his legs spread wide and Laurent standing upright and faking a stiff pose between them.

“Right.” Damen exhaled. “We wouldn’t. We shouldn’t”.

He let go of Laurent’s hand but didn’t move. His eyes were cast low, hiding an affectionate smile. 

Laurent clearly hadn’t expected to be released this easily and his eyes went immediately soft and yearning for contact again, he pushed himself closer to Damen that was now resting both of his hands on the desk. He stroked his arm tracing the hard lines of the muscles then put a finger under Damen’s chin and lifted his face, their eyes meeting in a silent greeting; a belligerent strand of blonde hair was covering Laurent’s eyebrows, Damen blew a soft whizz of air upward to move it, he didn’t have much success. Laurent made a bothered face and tried the same, but the strand kept falling back.

A companionable silence fell between the two of them. They stood still for a few minutes, riveting in each other’s company.

“Thank you, my King, for attending me this morning. I will make sure you are compensated according to your stature and standing”. He breathed on Damen’s neck, busy kissing him on his throat where he could feel the faint bubble of a laughter about to burst, while Damen still kept his hands to himself.

“I am not sure you can afford me, my king”. He laughed when Laurent made a noise of dislike.

“Luckily for me then I know you favourite kind of gold is my hair on your pillow moaning your name, as you have mentioned a number of times.”

Damen couldn’t then hold his laughter anymore and started shaking against Laurent. 

“You are a horrible person, you know that?”

“I know that. Do I get to be your horrible person, though?”

Damen stopped laughing. Took Laurent’s hands in his again and brushed a kiss on the golden cuff on his wrist. Taken aback by the fact Laurent still used the interrogative form. “I am not sure myself why, but yes you do. Now go or Makedon will have my head. He’s been waiting for this.”

“Has he now?” muttered Laurent.

“I am not sure why but I think he decided, somewhere along the line, to adopt you. He may be the only person in this entire joint kingdom that is completely unaware of your icy soul.”

Laurent went quiet for a while, considering what Damen just said and wondered how his life could have been so much different if his uncle would have been like Makedon. 

“Well, king of Akielos and Vere, I would be scared if I were you. Do not cross me or you will have to face Makedon.”

Damen laughed and uttered words of fake worry at the idea of Makedon coming after him, like Laurent could not well take the coldest revenge in the history of their kingdoms if he wanted.

“Go now, when you come back it will be my honour to attend to Your Highness undressing” said Damen with dancing eyes, nudging Laurent to move, Laurent didn’t bulge though. He did something very uncharacteristic of him instead, something he only did in the dark hours of the morning, in bed, after having been loved and cherished, his public persona on the floor with his clothes; he threw his arms around Damen and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek then composed himself again and marched out of the door without even looking back at Damen that stayed behind, not quite sure of what happened there. But he had stopped long ago trying to understand his lover and his king, as he found out loving him blindingly was good enough for him.

 

++++++++

 

“Ah, your Highness, I see you have decided to join me”. Makedon was wearing the Akielon hunting attire, a short tunic, leathers at his shins, Laurent thought only the Akielons, averse to all kind of coverage of one’s body, could wear something so utterly idiotic on a horse, in a forest. But, for the sake of his mental health, he decided to keep the thought to himself, at the same time complimenting himself for Vere’s hunting fashion: a full gear of worsened fustian trousers reinforced in the inner thighs with leather, a special silk Charls has found for him that sustained strain but was as smooth and as shiny as normal silk, therefore very kind to his easily bruised skin – it didn’t tear easily also, something that could come in handy when your king has a thing for shredding your clothes – a velvet brocade vest and reinforced leather vambraces, that was proper hunting ensemble. He was very pleased with it.

While mounting his horse he caught a peek of his wrist cuff and smiled to himself. An action Makedon didn’t let go of unnoticed.

“I would have thought your Highness would be busy in political counsel with the Exalted” he made a pause for show and pathos “I was almost ready to go alone”, he laughed giving Laurent a not to gentle pat on the back. His tone was ironic, but affectionate.

“The Exalted has had his fair share of political counsel with me all night”, Laurent looked up at him, meeting his gaze with a suppressed smile. He knew the Akielons were not as sexually liberated as the Veretians and he was very fond of their unamused reactions to his, sometime obscene, comments on his sexual encounters with their king. Makedon was not the average Akielon though, many years in the field and a non complicated nature made him a master at sex jokes; it was a point of pride for Laurent to manage to embarrass him too but every time he tried he always ended up roped in some sort of card game or a drinking game, and that never ended up well. 

“Are you going to be able to ride, your Highness, then?”. Makedon asked Laurent faking the humblest of tones. 

Laurent didn’t answer that, he knew better, he, instead, signaled his attendant to bring him his bow and arrows; it was a beautiful piece Damen had found in the Veretian armory while looking for new swords designs. It was not Laurent’s weapon of choice but as they’d been spending a long time traveling through their countries since the taking of Ios, and often camping in the woods, Laurent had been spending a long time practicing archery; also, the face on Damen face whenever he was practicing archery in Akielon clothing – what else could one wear at the temperature of the sun? – was so deeply precious to him, he had taken to practice more than he would need to. 

“I would hurry if I were you. Acquitart is certainly not famous for its prosperity in animals too hunt,we’ll be lucky if there are a few chamois lazily perching on the rocks out of the woods”. And then Laurent broke into a full throttle leaving Makedon to catch up with him. 

 

Several hours later a fresh looking Laurent and a very tired Makedon were galloping back to Acquitart, Damen was sparring with a couple of his men just outside the walls. He wasn’t expecting them to be back so soon and when he saw Laurent he broke into a grin and almost got knocked on the ground but the soldier he was training with. Makedon was the first to approach him once dismounted.

“What are you doing here so soon?” 

“His Highness forgot to mention there are no animals to kill on this land but the stupidly fast gazelle-like beings. His Highness enjoys a good gallop, as I do, but the old is upon me, my old bones demand rest, I will go now. He’s all yours again, Exalted”. 

Damen had to stifle a laugh. 

“And you” said Makedon addressing a slowly incoming Laurent “you are young and fit but are you a man? Tonight we drink griva and see if you are.”

Laurent looked inquiringly at Damen. Damen raised his hands like Pontius Pilate. 

“If I drink griva, _he_ drinks griva” Laurent raised a finger to Damen’s chest, his face locked in a icy stare, only his eyes betraying his mirth.

Damen mouthed some horrible word under his breath and then nodded. “Tonight we drink griva”. Griva was never a good idea but when theirs were ever, anyway. They’ve been through at least other four different instances of Makedon trying to prove Laurent a man with a drinking challenge. He had already proven himself many times. Funnily enough neither of them seemed inclined to stop anytime soon. Damen knew it was their ritual and they secretly enjoyed it way too much. 

“I think you mentioned something about undressing me, earlier, so, make haste, I don’t have all day”. Laurent has dismounted his horse and reached for his hand, his pronouncement had been made very loudly and articulating every word so there could have been no doubt what he wanted. 

“You need to stop trying to embarrass my soldiers, my cunning little blonde king”. Damen, furiously blushing accepted the proffered hand and took him aside and started walking with him with a semblance of direction and motivation.

“They are my soldiers too now. I will do as a I please with them. Embarrassing them is my favourite hobby”. 

“You are horrible. Horrible person”. Damen was laughing while Laurent was pulling on his hand to prompt him to walk faster. “I am horrible, horrible king that is going to be horrible things to you. And you like all of them”.

Damen’s vision clouded a bit. Their rooms seemed to be so far away now, Acquitart was no Ios or Arles, but when the love of your life dressed as a male reincarnation of the goddess of the moon was asking for you to undress him and do horrible things to you, even a square inch is too long of a journey. 

 

 


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is griva. And some grieving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading this silly story. Kudos make my little black heart very happy indeed. 
> 
> A special thank you to @sowhatifneverholdyou for listening to my endless chatter about the effects of griva, pizza, and for producing the best headcanons ever.

 

“When I said you could undress me, I didn’t mean you could do it in the hallway with everyone watching us?”. Laurent was walking backwards fending off Damen impatient hands trying to free him of his vest. He still had the bow slung on his shoulders and arrows behind his back. 

“Who’s shy now?” 

“I am most certainly not shy. Charls sent me this fabric from Arles, it is very rare, see?” Laurent pointed at his vest made of intricate brocade. “I can’t have your careless Akielon hands rip it because you can’t contain your animal impulses”. 

“My animal impulses”. Damen had let go of the very fine brocade and had encircled Laurent’s waist with his arm. “You never seem to mind, your Highness. You quite encourage them, if I am not mistaken.”

“Yes, but far from my brocade.”

“Well, then. I shall leave you and your precious brocade alone.” Damen said, retreating and putting his hands behind his back. 

Laurent moved closer to him, not before having fixed his vest and made sure there weren't any creases in the fabric; he did so taking his time and concealing a cunning smile. He took in the fake stiffness in Damen’s posture, his gaze was fashioned on a distant point in the hallway but his body told another story. Laurent could feel him yearning to touch him again, and Laurent, against everything he could have told himself many years earlier, was constantly in awe of what being constantly desired could do to him. He was naked, emotionally and physically to this man, his want and affection and love taking him aback every day. 

“I am sure Charls can find me some more brocade”, Laurent laughed looking at Damen’s face change into his usual loving smile. 

“You are so easy to tease, you know that, my king?” asked Laurent then put his hands on Damen’s shoulders to act as a lever and jumped crossing his leather clad legs across Damen’s midriff. He knew this was going to drive him mad with lust and, also, if his hands were busy carrying him, he would leave his precious brocade alone. 

A surprised noise escaped from Damen’s mouth while his hands went automatically around Laurent’s settling him around his waist. 

“I am easy, yes. Take advantage of me, please?”. With a loud, warm laugh he carried Laurent’s very eager body back their chambers to show him how much damage he could do to that brocade without Laurent’s offering a single complaint.

 

“Here, hav ‘ome nuss.” Damen was stuffing toasted nuts from Akielos in his mouth. 

“You know they don’t work on griva, we have tried everything, remember?” 

Damen was convinced the oil in the nuts would absorb the alcohol and reduce the horrendous hangover that damned liquor produced the morning after; Laurent knew better than that.

Also, the last three times Makedon had decided to partake of his favourite beverage with the kings, including their crowing ceremony night, had resulted in Damen, a bit bigger and therefore endowed with more space to store the alcohol, having to carrying Laurent to bed and, on top of it, had to withstand him moan the entire day after. 

The king was very good at hiding his hungover and headache to his people and fellow nobles, but, with his chosen companion, he had decided to honour him with the grace of full honesty; that meant endless sessions of “why did you even let me do that?”, to “let’s spar, it will take my mind off things” and when he couldn’t even manage to stand up that would ensue another session of complaints. He was suffering and he quite enjoyed Damen to suffer through it with him, it lessened the pain. 

Laurent carded a hand through Damen’s hair and reached to brush a kiss on his forehead. There must be something wrongwith him finding Damen stuffing his mouth with salted nuts, like a kid, incredibly endearing and he couldn’t stop acknowledging this with an affectionate gesture; neither of them were still used to this. Laurent wasn’t used to finding his hands moving before his mind could give the order, and Damen, unconsciously, sometimes still thought Laurent’s displays of affection hid a secret agenda to every gesture that didn’t belong to the bedchamber.

They were sitting on a spacious chaise placed in front of the fire, at Marlas, where the main court was now sitting, their attire for a dinner would be more formal; politics happened more over a chalice of Patrasi wine than in the Council chambers. At Acquitart things were far less ruled by etiquette, all the staff had seen Laurent grow and treated him with warmth and informality; they had left the nobles behind implying the powerful Makedon wanted to discuss very important political affairs with them and the kingswouldn’t want to cross him, so it was just them and Paschal that had come along with the excuse to gather some plants, but only wanted out of the court for a while. 

The friendly doctor was sitting on another chaise very busy studying a reproduction of a botanic book, far too used to Damen and Laurent’s private behaviour to notice Damen’s flushed cheeks and Lauren’t pale, lithe hand playing with his curls while muttering senseless words into his ear. 

“My friends!”. Makedon’s loud voice disrupted the peaceful scene of domesticity. Laurent, still a hand firmly in Damen’s hair, put on a smile, long ago it would have been a fake one but Makedon had somehow won his favour for reason’s not even Laurent knew. “Here we go” whispered in Damen’s ear before straightening up a bit to greet their friend not moving from his comfortable position half perched on his king’s thigh. 

Behind Makedon trotted Arnoul, Aquitart's old and hostile caretaker carrying a tray with glasses and _griva._

“That is three bottles of griva” mouthed Damen moving Lauren’t chin to direct his gaze to what Arnoul was bringing forward. 

“He never desists if we haven’t finished them to the last drop” followed Laurent, dramatically letting his head fall on Damen’s shoulder trying to hide. 

“You two, lovebirds. Makedon is here. Stop copulating and join the good doctor and I” Makedon sat on a chaise and was serving Paschal his first glass of griva. 

“That’s their normal state of being, it’s not copulating Makedon, they are always like this, all the time. At least when they are not holding court, aren’t you used it, because I am”.

“Is that a note of sarcasm I detect in your voice, good doctor?” laughed Damen pulling Lauren even closer to him. 

“I would never, Exalted. It is only my joy and pride to witness their majesties marital happiness.”, only one sip of _griva_ and Paschal was already sassing them and cracking jokes. Laurent didn’t want to think of what the night and more _griva_ would bring. He took Makedon offered glass and drank his first dose in a single swallow. 

 

An hour later found Damen sitting on the floor, Laurent was braiding his hair with a determined face, concentration would help him not losing his brains to the alcohol, not yet. Makedon was complaining with Paschal about the shameful lack of game in the surrounding and how every king in their right name should have game in their woods.

One bottle of griva laid on the floor alongside some more jugs of wine and no food. The alcohol was taking its toll on all of them but Makedon that looked unbothered, fresh as a rose, muttered Laurent under his breath, agonising over the fact that was something he couldn’t master even with now constant exercise. Damen would tell him it was because of his lithe body and weak build just to make him mad, he knew how much it wind him up. 

“Laurent” shouted Makedon circling a finger in the direction of Damen from where he was sitting in close counsel with his new buddy, the house dog. Laurent thought with bitter satisfaction, he was not that _unbothered_ if he was calling him with his given name. He was looking at Damen, sitting on the floor, very relaxed, a bit out of it, but all in all very content. The lucky bastard even when inebriated seemed to be ok with losing a bit of control and not too unfazed by it. Laurent, on the other hand, whenever under the influence of alcohol, would play a double fight: one against the liquid and one against his will; he never liked it, was afraid was never going to like it. 

“Yes, Makedon?” asked Laurent careful to use his sharper tone. It was all his fault and his uncle’s horrible griva. 

“The Exalted has well gone, I never seen him so gone after a few bottles since he was nineteen”. Laurent dropped his hands from Damen’s hair like he had been scorched by boiling water, his guts felts an immediate twist, and felt his face suddenly lose all it colour, his incredibly high functioning brain was piecing information up together at a pace he never had thought possible because of alcohol. 

Damen.

Nineteen.

Alcohol.

He had been celebrating his brother’s death. 

It felt like the substance had scraped a layer of scar tissues from his heart. 

He though he was healing, he thought Damen’s love, adoration was draining the hate and transforming into something different. The fact he loved his brother’s killer, instead, in that moment, slashed every stitch Damen had carefully applied, Lauren’t head could not cope with that. He stood up abruptly. Makedon regarded him with an impenetrable stare.

Laurent moved fast. He left the hall careful not to be seen the servants and found a place where he could not think in peace. 

He heard Damen’s voice call him, but not strong enough to stop him. 

 

Damen felt Laurent’s hands leave his hair, the loss of contact provoked a surge of rebellion in his body and a moan of protest but he didn’t not have the time to turn and see what called for his blond king to stop the slow incredibly pleasurable torture of touching his hair while Damen could not touch any other part of him. He heard Laurent’s foot fell on the floor, he stopped for a second then left the room with a determined stride. Damen had been drowsy and sleepy and was lost. He looked up at Makedon, then at Paschal, then pried out of his brain words and a sentence. Makedon has said something about him being very drunk like this just one other time in his life. He was nineteen. He had just killed Auguste. He had to find him. His legs gave away a little bit when he tried to stand. Paschal looked at him with a pained expression and raised to help me up, but Damen shushed him away. Then Makedon stood up as well and guided Damen back to the sofa. 

“Damen, I have known you since you were a little kid, your heart is pure, your mind is strong; I hope you will find in your heart to forgive me for having reserved so little regard to your King. Makedon will fix this, let me, please.” 

Damen had never heard the older man utter words with an edge of desperation, words that whispered an apology, an heartfelt one. Still not completely with a clear mind, he nodded, then threw his head back. 

 

Makedon left the room and found the King sitting on the throne, his long legs pulled up close to his body; he was holding them tight, his head was hiding between his knees with all of his blonde golden hair covering his face; he was trembling. 

Makedon had a bottle of griva in one hand and two glasses in the other.

Laurent thought the guy had really no idea.

“Your Highness”. Makedon stepped closer to him, his steps unsure, very unlikely of him to ask for permission to come forward. 

Laurent raised his eyes to him, they were death, they were fire. 

Makedon held his gaze without flinching. 

“You are young, you are hurt, you are in love. All things that are telling you to tell me to shut up, you don’t want to hear what I have to say. You think your grief, and your hatred, have a better place in loneliness. But, your Highness, Laurent, I have come to think of you as one of my own. More so than Damen, he has so many people that love him. You haven’t been that lucky, at least till now, till a big, emotional, Akielon decided to call you his and his family is your family, but you don’t give trust easily. So I thought I could force you my trust on you and see if you accepted it. I come forward now in the hope you do”.

“I am not anyone’s charity case, Makedon. Not yours in least” the venom in Laurent’s voice would have been enough to have anyone else run away and hide forever.

“You are not. But this time you need to swallow a bit of your pride at being able to hold all the pieces of your life and listen to me, very carefully”.

“Your brother was our enemy. Damianos was our hero. The day your brother died at the hand of our prince, my country was celebrating. Rivers of wine, crates of beer, food, any liqueur was made available to the court and his inhabitants to drink to the mighty August’s demise”.

Laurent made a strangled noise and fought back a cry and the tears he could feel crowding his eyes.

“But when Damianos came, he went straight for me and asked me for a bottle of griva. See, your Highness, you don’t drink griva to celebrate, you drink to feel it, to forget, it’s not a drink for the weak, not a drink for a celebration. And the man you love wasn’t celebrating your brother’s death. He was mourning him. Mourning his amazing opponent, a man he would have called his friend, his ally, his brother, if times would have been different. It might have been easy for you to think of Damianos as a ruthless warrior that cherished war and death. But now it’s time for you to accept nothing is easy, nothing is black and white.”

Laurent was silent. His hands in his hair. He was not the king anymore. He was just a young man teared apart by the death of his brother and a love so unavoidable it made me overwhelmed and out of control. 

Makedon filled the two cups with enough griva to knock down a horse and handed one to Laurent.

“He drank to your brother’s death. Now you drink to his. He mourned Auguste, now it’s your time to mourn him and let him go. Then drink to Kastor’s death. You are even.”

Laurent drank. 

 

An hour later Damen found them in the throne room, Makedon was sitting on a stool, sharpening his blades with great care and patiences; it looked liked he had been there quite a while. Laurent was sitting on the throne, his legs crossed, his head dipped low, he had a knife of his own and was trying to sharpen and failing. 

Makedon nodded at Damen and set to leave the room. “He loves you”.

“I know that”. 

“Loving you sometimes burns a hole inside of him”.

“I know that as well.”

Damen turned to Makedon and his features, full of love and worry for Laurent, twisted into something darker. “Make your point, Makedon”.

“If you ever prove unworthy of his love. You will have to face me”.

Damen nodded. He was tired and the griva was slowly tearing his brain into shards of glass puncturing his skull. The annoyance let go to something different, a sort of careful affection. It was nice to know Laurent had someone on his side. In case he messed everything up, to protect him, to defend him. He smiled at Makedon.

“I can take it from here”.

 

Damen approached Laurent with soft steps, put out a tentative hand to touch his forehead, when the other leaned into the touch, he entwined his fingers in his king’s beautiful golden hair and Laurent sighed into the embrace Damen was offering. A sigh of relief escaping his shoulders. “I am sorry. I…I reacted. I didn’t know. I thought I was past it. I love you. I love you. You killed my brother. And I love you.”

“I know, silly king of my heart. I know that.”

“I…I don’t want you to think this…this…I don’t want….you…this…between us.”

“Shush, my love. You are not making any sense. Let me get you into bed.”

“We drank, we drank to Kastor’s death. It was nice. And Makedon told me stories of you as kid. He said to ask you about bees, and sandmen.”

“I’ll have to have a word with Makedon tomorrow.” Damen laughed, and hoped Laurent would forget all about it in the morning. Or he was in for a life of torment.

“Bring me to bed, lover”. Laurent extended his golden cuffed hand. “I may need some help standing up.”

“It’d be my honour to help you, your Highness”.

He took Laurent’s hand and then picked up without much effort. Laurent cradled his hand into Damen’s shoulder and sighed. “I think it’s time to shut down that damn place that makes Makedon’s griva.”

Damen laughed and held Laurent a bit tighter to his body. 

“Even drunk you have the best ideas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be one more chapter; I promise some fluff, and, of course, lots, lots of sass. 
> 
> Also, bees, and sandmen.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after, sexy Kings have sexy times; plot is not a word that apparently exists in my dictionary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There should have been hunt, and there's none.  
> There's should have been smut, and there's very little.  
> Apparently, I can only write sappy fluffy sap with a side of angst. Ye who enter, be aware :) 
> 
> In time this story will be one longer story in a single chapter, there may be some edits and some more Makedon. Life is not being kind to my hobbies at the moment, hopefully it'll be better when Spring comes!

The morning sun shone on their skins, half clothed – hadn’t managed to undress in the their state of inebriation – Damen was feeling the pleasurable warmth become less pleasurable by the minute but moving was not an option. In the night Laurent had inched closer and closer and was now burrowed in his shoulder like he was trying to hide from the world, and possibly from the light. They had fallen asleep far from each other – Damen, knowing Laurent better than he knew himself,had left him alone – but what Laurent was not very good at saying with words, he was becoming quite proficient at declaring with unconscious little gestures. 

“I can feel you squirming”. Laurent had shifted a tiny bit to hide from the light even more; his voice was pasted with sleep and the aftermaths of the hungover. “Do what you need to do then come back here”. 

“Bossy much, this morning, Your Majesty” Damen laughed and left the bed just for the amount of time it was needed to disrobe, tossed the clothes on the floor and made to resume his position as human shield to the King. “Now do me”, came Laurent’s voice from under the pillow he was hiding his face under. 

Damen slid a hand under Laurent’s shirt in a tentative motion. 

“I said do me, not _do_ me”. Damen, chuckling, obliged and moved his hand a bit further up and helped a very uncooperative Laurent to strip, his hands lingering on the pale skin of his back and his thighs. He removed the bottoms of his informal dinner attire with a gentle caress,with the careful hands one would have when disrobing a very precious glass statue. Laurent’s body, probably against his owner’s iron will, started to wake up. He exhaled a sigh of disapproval that merged with a moan when Damen’s hand closed and held on that spot between his leg and his thigh along the lean lower abdominal strip of muscles. A little pressure of his thumb and Laurent wriggled and squirmed, his motions slurred by the hangover, but nonetheless clearly quite eager for this enhanced disrobing to continue in the same fashion. 

Damen pressed a kiss on the same spot and raised his hands, with a huge grin moved a now pliant Laurent against his shoulder to shield from the sun, as he had been asked too. 

“You think yourself very smart, don’t you, Exalted? You are a just a smug amateur at this. Now finish what you started while I lay here recuperating my strength”. The blonde let out a bothered huff and spread on the bed, a offering and a loving order at the same time. 

Damen could be good at this game, they had tried many times, the sparring of words and he was truly making great progress, this morning he didn’t have in him, though. He wanted simple, he wanted Laurent in his arms, he wanted to feel what faltered a bit the night before between them to be steady as it had been for months. His brain could tell him many times they were fine, but his body wanted a proof of trust and affection. 

So he set off on obliging to his lover’s request he resumed his careful ministration to Laurent’s hipbone muscles, a flick of his tongue and a nip of his teeth and Laurent’s breathing was suddenly faster and harder, hungry; his hips coming to meet his mouth in shallow thrusts. Damen pushed him softly in the mattress, one open palm on the hip and kept trailing his way in kisses to Laurent’s pink, erect cock. 

With his thumbs he was still drawing circles on Laurent’s hips, soft, slow, tender caresses he knew would reduce to a mass of quivering feels. Laurent’s cock was giving him a morning welcome and Damen thought just polite to say hello back with a an open mouthed kiss on the aroused tip. Laurent went still and threaded a pale hand in Damen’s soft black hair. Damen blew some hair on the trail of wet adoration he left on Laurent’s arousal while still pushing at the side of his King’s pelvis with his thumbs. Laurent’s pull on his hair became harder, the hands impulsively directing his motions in a gentle guidance.

“I thought you were supposed to recuperate your strength while I did all the work” he raised his head from his occupation just enough to laugh at Laurent’s tender hypocrisy in bed then he did not even let him answer to his accusations that swallowed his cock in one motion earning Laurent strangled cry of pleasure.

 

Laurent at court had a poisonous tongue, his words cut, his dialectic a perfectly honed weapon; Laurent in bed was a young man in love, he flushed, he cried of pleasure, he was demanding but shy in his requests like he still couldn’t believe he was allowed this. When he was in Damen’s arms he felt like his sarcasm switched off, no longer needed. Damen, with his unwavering positivity and strength, confused him, in the best possible way. He took down his defenses made of reasoning and careful consideration but he never destroyed them, he would open them with tender determination like someone would do with the curtains in the house of someone that has not let the light in for too long. 

Sprawled on the bed with his fingers twisting and pulling at Damen’s hair, his cock in his lover’s mouth, Laurent would have liked to respond with a snarky remark, sassed his way out of this feeling of contentment that had overcame when this giant animal, this honorable barbarian had entered his life, but he seemed quite unable to do as such. He might as well enjoy it. The sensation of tongue, suction; the pressure of Damen’s thumbs on that soft spot between hips and pelvis, it made him go made with lust. He wanted to be taken, he liked to be go pliant under his lover’s hands, hands he trusted. 

Hands that killed his brother. 

The thought of the night before came back to haunt him. 

He had gone to bed with his mind in a fog of alcohol, the matter seemingly taken care of but he didn’t know if he could have bore Damen’s warmth and love but he had woken up in his arms, of his own volition, or at least his body’s. And let the lovemaking sweep away the last remnants of the dark shadow cast by Auguste’s death. 

“Laurent”. 

In the midst of his thoughts, Damen had stopped sucking his cock and touching him. He was looking at him with a concerned face. He crawled up his body and took him into his arms. Laurent let out a sound and held tight, snaking his arms around Damen’s torso. 

“What? You are not telling me not to think this time?” with his face hidden in Damen’s chest, Laurent talked, between sadness and happiness.

“I don’t think I need to”. 

Laurent knew Damen was giving him the choice. Talk, love, fuck. He had just to pick one and Damen would be there for him. He moved back a little, just to regard his bed companion. This beautiful, kind, powerful man, he was his to keep. He would think later, or maybe never again. 

He smiled to himself. To Damen, he gave his better predator look. 

“For a change, we can have sex with some thinking. I reckon with my intelligence and your physical prowess we could have an interesting morning”. 

He said, smirking and leaving the protection of Damen’s arms to slide one leg around his hips and straddling him. Damen’s hands went automatically to his hips, but they didn’t move. He locked his eyes with Laurent’s, an unspoken question laid in his stillness and in his stare. Laurent dropped a kiss in the middle of his chest, where Damen heart pulsed at a fastened pace. 

“I am sure. I am fine. Now let’s see. I have been reading this book…”.


End file.
